TMNT: Beat It
by princessebee
Summary: 2k14verse. It's the middle of Spring and the boys are acting weird - what could be the cause of it all? Set before April & Raph are together.


_An anonymous reviewer has left a comment on this fic saying it plagiarises another TMNT story. All I can say is I haven't read the story in question. I came back to the TMNT fandom late July and have spent most of my time in it writing fanfic rather than reading it. I think the concept of the mating season is pretty well established in fandom - it was around back in 2007 as well, and this isn't such an original scenario. I can promise you that I plagiarised no one. I think it's just the bad luck two people had the same idea. Hopefully the way we have both written our respective stories are distinct enough to satisfy people._

**ooo**

April kicked open the door of her apartment with a whuff, then pushed her wheeled suitcase so it skidded across the floorboards, stumbling in after it with her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She dumped the duffel next to the suitcase, ran her fingers back through her tangled hair and wearily made her way to the kitchen, depositing her handbag and keys on the bench before opening the window over the sink, letting a gust of warm Spring air into the stifled apartment.

She had been gone two weeks to a series of conventions, training seminars and journalism bootcamp Thompson had arranged for her and while April was grateful for the opportunity and had learned a great deal, she was ecstatic to be home. Living out of a suitcase was a drag and she missed Splinter and the boys, her own bed, her Orly nail polishes, the convenience of her bike and jumbo caramel lattes from Ground Support.

April moved tiredly through her apartment, opening windows and flicking on lights, restoring life to her home. With Taylor gone, it was odd to come home to rooms that seemed so quickly to have taken on the film of abandonment, but April couldn't deny it was awesome to move as she pleased and do as she liked to make herself feel comfortable again without anybody else to answer to or check in with. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank it down in thirsty gulps. Air travel always left her feeling dehydrated and grimy and once the eerie stillness of the unoccupied rooms was set satisfactorily stirring, her next stop was the bathroom for a mud mask, deep conditioning hair treatment, leg and underarm shave and a touch-up of her toenail polish, completed with a scalding hot shower.

Comfortably wrapped up in her robe with her wet hair swaddled in a towel, April took the empty water bottle to her recycling bin and glanced out the kitchen window to where the sun still hung in the heavens, just beginning its slow descent behind the jagged city skyline. She smiled as a warm breeze wafted in, reflecting contentedly on being home. It was the second month of Spring and the weather was becoming increasingly balmy, the sky a brilliant and darkening blue speckled with fluffy white clouds, the dying golden sun reflecting off steel and concrete and bringing a warmth to the city that had not yet become uncomfortable. It was impossible not to be in a good mood with the bitterness of winter well done with, a range of new possibilities opening up for her in her career, and a chosen family of five incredible individuals enriching her life. Even the imminent arrival of her period, due any day now – though it was never considerate enough to be exactly predictable on that front – wasn't enough to affect her mood now that she was home. She'd been increasingly snappy and irritable the last couple of days and there was a nasty moment on the plane while the seatbelt sign was still on when she thought the damn thing had commenced early, but it was a false alarm and after her bout of DIY pampering she felt surprisingly energised and good-humoured once more.

And it was barely five o'clock. The night was young.

April's smile curved further up her face as she contemplated the descent of twilight out her kitchen window. She knew exactly where she wanted to be.

An hour later, she was approaching the main entrance of the sewer lair, hauling a carton of beer under one arm, her still-damp hair frizzing in the dank air of the tunnels. She hadn't phoned ahead, wanting to surprise the boys, but she knew their security systems would've detected her by then and this was confirmed a moment later when the tunnel door swung open before her and a beaming Michelangelo, decked out in a frilly pink apron, emerged, his arms opened wide and an elated expression on his face.

"April!" he exclaimed and she smiled back at him, depositing the carton on the stone and moving forward into his hug.

"Hey Mikey," she said affectionately and giving him a light kiss on the cheek as he enveloped her in his strong arms.

Michelangelo shuddered heavily and held her tight against him for an instant before quickly releasing her and taking a big step back. April was mildly surprised. Michelangelo loved hugs and they usually spent a good ten seconds swaying back and forth together as a matter of course. He had never been sleazy or creepy about it and she knew he simply relished affection amongst his loved ones; took a pure delight in being close to others and that enabled her to equally enjoy their platonic embraces. Now he seemed to have quite deliberately put distance between them, something that was far more Leonardo's style than the boisterous youngest brother's. But Michelangelo continued to beam at her as delightedly as ever so she shrugged it off.

"I know I said I'd come by tomorrow but I couldn't wait to see you guys," she explained, jostling her handbag on her shoulder as Michelangelo continued to grin, gazing adoringly at her in silence, standing stock-still before her. He was obstructing the entrance to the lair and as she watched him, waiting for him to move, she was bemused to observe his expression glaze over and his pupils dilate until only a thin circle of blue was left of his iris. He stood there, grinning dopily, arms hanging slack by his sides and staring at her with a faraway look in his eyes. "Um, Mikey, are we going to go inside?"

Michelangelo started, snapping out of his reverie with a look of surprise. "Huh? Oh – yeah! Yeah, sorry! C'mon angelcakes, we're just gettin' dinner ready and there's plenty for you!" He swooped down to hoist the carton of beer and stood aside with a flourish for her to enter before him, gazing at her with such unabashed affection that she felt her cheeks flush. It was nice to feel loved. Even if Michelangelo was being a little weird about it right then.

Michelangelo arrested her with a hand on her shoulder before they reached the den, coming up close as she spun around in surprise, whispering furtively, his eyes nearly black:

"April, I'm not supposed to tell you this anymore, but you – smell – _amazing_!"

April blinked rapidly at him, eyebrows creasing. Oh god, this _again_? Michelangelo gave her shoulder an urgent squeeze, his eyes round and huge on hers.

"Don't tell Leo I said so!" he entreated, and then bounded ahead of her towards the kitchen, beer in tow.

Shaking her head, April followed after him, a flutter of dread in her gut. It looked like things were going to be weird in the Hamato household tonight. She hadn't expected she would understand all the quirks and titches of mutated turtles who lived in the sewers, were expert martial artists and who had to keep their existence a closely guarded secret – especially since they were a group of young men to boot – but if there was going to be a repeat of the last time Mikey had gone into raptures over whatever magical odour she was apparently emitting, with the others making themselves scarce, she was going to demand an explanation, no matter how awkward things got.

She entered the kitchen to be met with a tangible air of expectation, as though they had all been poised in tense anticipation of her arrival. In fact, from the way Michelangelo spun quickly towards the fridge with the carton of beer and the others watched after him, she had the distinct impression she had just been the subject of a whispered conversation. As she strolled towards the table, eyebrows raised high on her head in enquiry, all four of them swivelled their heads to look at her for a brief, bizarre moment in total silence and then Donatello, Raphael and Leonardo all looked quickly away, returning to their tasks with studied concentration. Michelangelo just grinned at her, barely able to drag his eyes away for a second at a time as he unloaded the cans of beer into the fridge, and April was pretty sure he was making particular effort to flex.

"Hey April, welcome back," Leonardo said, his tone unfailingly polite but also affectionate though he kept his gaze fixed on the potatoes he was precisely chopping.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" April dropped her handbag by the table and moved to hug Donatello, who was closest to her, taking clean – though chipped and mismatched – plates out of a cupboard to set the table.

Donatello hemmed awkwardly and looked around in consternation even as he pressed a tentative hand to her back. "Hi April," he managed to stammer, his eyes fixed on a point far beyond her head, his throat working nervously as she squeezed him. "Good, thanks. Can't complain. Much."

April released him and moved towards Leonardo, who visibly stiffened as she approached but did not change expression. April didn't care. She wasn't entertaining this shit. If they weren't going to tell her what was up, she was just going to carry on as normal.

She dropped an arm around Leonardo's shoulders and leaned forward to hug him and he at least turned his head towards her and lifted a hand to squeeze her shoulder. As they separated, their eyes met for a second and she noted his pupils had also widened to encompass nearly his whole iris, though the smile on his face was carefully arranged and he turned his attention quickly back to the vegetables, his jaw tense.

"How are you, April? Did you enjoy your trip?" His voice was measured, interested but very careful.

"It was awesome, thanks, I learned a bunch but it's great to be home." She shifted around behind Leonardo's chair to approach Raphael who hulked awkwardly against the counter, grating cheese into a bowl, the scowl on his face as thunderous as if he were beating the shit out of a Foot soldier.

Despite the fearsome expression, he was a sight for sore eyes – even better than she remembered, all that bulk and muscle making her feel slightly weak at the knees as she ignored his ignoring her and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Raphael wasn't a hugger but she wasn't going to leave him out. Even if he was radiating '_noli me tangere_', she knew it would bother him if she greeted his brothers and not him. And balancing herself with one palm placed on a magnificently muscular arm was a treat she hadn't known how much she had missed until she felt the firmness of that bicep beneath her fingertips. Raphael inhaled sharply and went rigid all over as she leaned in close, and he stared resolutely down into the bowl he was grating into, increasing his pace so that the cheese showered out of the grater like shreds of yellow rain.

"Hey Raphael," April said softly but directly, stepping back and looking up into his grim face.

"Hey," he grunted, still not looking at her. "Good to see ya."

April turned back to the others, and then paused, something seeming off to her about the homey tableau before her but unable to quite put her finger on what it was. Michelangelo was cheerily attending to the pots and pans on the stove, though he spent more time gazing in her direction, grinning at her shamelessly and unmistakeably showing off as he shook a pan full of onions, liberally salted sauce and whisked eggs in a bowl, garnishing his movements with elaborate twists and flourishes. Leonardo and Donatello were going about their tasks, as before, though Donatello was now polishing mismatched cutlery, the plates having been laid out. But there was something contrived about their movements, their focus too deliberate. She had the strong suspicion they had both been staring at her while her back was to them, hurrying back to what they were doing when she turned.

"So where's Splinter?" she asked, deciding to ignore their weird behaviour for the moment. At least they weren't making fumbling excuses and running out on her.

Michelangelo guffawed as he fetched a box of breadcrumbs from the cupboard behind where Leonardo was seated. "Are you kiddin'? Sensei tries to get away from us as much as possible at this time of yea – ow! Chill, brah!"

Leonardo had reached out and whacked Michelangelo hard upside the head, giving him the sort of death stare only the turtle in blue was capable of. Michelangelo shot Leonardo a wounded glance, shaking his head as he turned back to the stove, pouting. April's eyebrows shot up her head as she wandered to the table, pulling a seat out for herself.

"What's wrong wi – "

"What did you feel was the most beneficial part of your trip, April?" Leonardo spoke smoothly over the top of her, finishing with the vegetables and placing the laden board behind him on the cupboard counter for Michelangelo to attend to. April pursed her lip and raised her brows again as Leonardo stood up to retrieve a cloth from the sink and wipe the table around the area he had been chopping, but once more decided to let it go.

"Oh, you know, a seminar on disarming techniques to use in interviews with tough subjects – politicians, bureaucrats, military officials, that sorta thing," she obliged the clan's leader, affecting as deliberately nonchalant a tone as he had used and earning herself a sharp glance from him for her trouble. She was being slightly passive-aggressive, but she knew something was being kept from her and she didn't appreciate it. "I just need a chance or two to practice them," she threw in, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded across her bosom, watching Leonardo carefully.

His brow ridges shot up a little but he otherwise did not react, returning the cloth to the sink and sitting back down opposite her, still not looking at her.

"I'm sure you'll find yourself with plenty of opportunities soon enough," he replied.

"Mmmm," she pointedly agreed and again he shot her a quick look and she felt rather smug to glimpse the merest flicker of apprehension in his usually stoic blue eyes.

Raphael had finished grating and strode across the kitchen to the stove, shoving the bowl of cheese at Michelangelo. April couldn't help herself from watching him, admiring the way his muscles rippled beneath green scales. "Here," he rasped and Michelangelo turned from his preparations – chicken parmigiana, if she wasn't mistaken – to take the bowl.

"Whoah dude, you did the whole block?" he exclaimed. "Hope you didn't hurt your wrist, you're gonna need it later!"

April rolled her eyes and fought back a smirk but Raphael did not appreciate the levity and it was his turn to swat Michelangelo's head.

"Ow!" Michelangelo exclaimed, rubbing his head and glancing at her to see if she was witnessing the injustice he was being subjected to, his eyes so plaintively beseeching that she couldn't help giggling, even as Raphael lumbered away from his bratty little brother, mouth twisted in an irritated grimace, taking up position against the wall. "Are you seeing this, angelcakes? Unappreciated in my own home!"

"You should be used to it by now, wise ass," Raphael muttered and she flashed him a little smile, catching his eye before he could quite avoid it. His gaze hovered on her for a moment and the merest flicker crossed his lips before he wrenched his eyes away, staring resolutely out over the kitchen.

Five bodies in a small room with a stove on the go had April shrugging out of her favourite yellow leather jacket a moment later, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. The jacket unexpectedly hooked at her elbows and she automatically thrust her chest outwards as she writhed it off to reveal a tight pale blue tank top underneath. A sudden stillness around her caught her attention and she looked up to find four pairs of eyes staring at her. Michelangelo's jaw was hanging open, his hand limply clutching a wooden spoon half in a burbling pot. Donatello's hands were arrested in the middle of polishing a butter knife (and exactly how long had he been shining the silver now, anyway? How bright did rummaged stainless steel really need to be?) and his eyes were perfectly round behind his glasses. Leonardo's fists were clenched on the table, his expression one of strained consternation. Raphael looked merely stunned, lips parted and forehead creased, burly arms crossed over his plastron, frozen in place.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and automatically a hand flew to her face even as the spell broke and once again they all looked anywhere but at her, Donatello hurriedly resuming his polishing and Leonardo shifting edgily on his seat.

"Donnie, watch the stove," Michelangelo suddenly ordered, ripping off his apron and letting the spoon go so that it clattered against the pan. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Mikey!" Leonardo snapped furiously as Michelangelo hurried to the door.

"Dude, it's urgent!" Michelangelo hissed back over his shoulder, and vanished. April had swivelled in her chair to watch him go, mouth agape and when she turned back to the others she caught Raphael and Leonardo staring at each other, locked in some savage, silent communication.

April glanced from one to the other of them warily. Of course she was more than aware of the tension that constantly vibrated between the two headstrong brothers, that they butted heads over almost every issue imaginable and a few more besides, but most of the time their disagreements were vocal, if not physical. Now they were waging a war entirely with their eyes, Leonardo's icy blue, Raphael's stony gold, their jaws set hard and their musculature bulging. Leonardo remained seated opposite her, but she could see he was coiled, ready to spring. Raphael was still leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, but just as obviously prepared to snap into action.

Donatello was fussing at the stove, his shell to them, muttering that he had no idea what he was doing as he stirred frantically at the pot, then the pan, and April made the judicious decision to leave Raphael and Leonardo to their silent battle and assist the brother whose genius clearly did not extend to homemaking.

"Hey Donnie," she came up to his elbow and he started and stood up straight and rigid, swallowing hard and staring straight ahead. "Let me help."

"Not necessary, April," he squeaked, then cleared his throat and jabbed the spoon ineffectually at the burbling sauce. "I can debug two million lines of code in eight hours on three hours sleep and hand-grind glass to specific prescriptions, I think I can handle this."

April's mouth twitched but she didn't want to hurt the gentle turtle's feelings so she suppressed the grin and nodded tactfully to the pot.

"The sauce is starting to burn I think, should we turn the heat down?"

Donatello hemmed and fumbled with the knobs, locating the correct one after a moment. April noticed there was sweat beading his forehead and speckling his upper lip and was on the cusp of shooing him away from the stove despite his protestations when he began to rapidly speak, darting nervous glances at her:

"Did you know I got the entire lair hooked up for power, gas and running water throughout when I was ten years old? I built all the computers we use out of scrap; I started doing that when I was about eight though naturally I've improved on them since. Exponentially. The security system was entirely designed and installed by me of course – well, Raph helped a little with the installation but I created it singlehandedly and you've already seen what I can do with a moving vehicle."

April was biting her lip, holding back her mirth even as she struggled to comprehend Donatello – of all turtles – bragging in this awkward and painfully obvious fashion.

"Really, Donnie?" she said gently and reached carefully across to turn the burner off under the steaming vegetables.

"Oh yeah," Donnie said, giving her another furtive look and nudging his glasses up. "I mean, what I'm saying, April, is, you know, if you need anything I can hook you up. Easily. Anytime."

A shy little smile edged his mouth up and he gave the pot of sauce another stir. It was achingly sweet to listen to him – he wasn't exaggerating his talents – if anything he was rather downplaying them – but he still sounded self-conscious even in this apparent sudden need for her recognition. She found herself touched and wanting to indulge him.

"Do you really mean that, Donnie?" she smiled up at him even as he continued not to look at her directly, though his face cracked in a helpless grin to hear her question.

"No problemo!" he exclaimed, his confidence seeming boosted by her encouragement. "Anything you desire, custom-tailored to fit your specifications. Just name it and it's yours."

"I wouldn't want to put you out – " God knows, he was busy enough making life comfortable for his family.

"Please! I relish the challenge! I feel like I'm stagnating down here sometimes."

As they spoke, April turned to the side and leaned against the counter beside the stove then glanced back to see if Raphael and Leonardo had sorted themselves out.

She started to find herself greeted with the spectacle of them both unmistakeably _ogling_ her, their jaws dangling and their pupils enormous glazed black holes in their eyes. Before she could react, they both registered she had caught them out and twin looks of distress and dismay contorted their features. Raphael ripped his gaze away to stare across the room with a bug-eyed grimace that might've been hilarious had she not been so shocked and Leonardo opened and shut his mouth several times, his brow creasing agitatedly before he finally burst out:

"Did you get your hair cut while you were away, April?"

It was so ineffectual a cover and such a ludicrous question, uttered in such an unexpectedly high-pitched voice from the usually implacable and dignified Leonardo, that April very nearly burst out laughing on the spot.

But she recognised that he was embarrassed and didn't want to make it worse. He'd never been in the least bit inappropriate with her before and seemed mortified with himself.

"Yeah, I got a couple of layers put in," she lied and he nodded, his eyes desperately intent on her. Behind him, Raphael continued to stare ahead with that curious strained expression, looking like he wanted nothing more in all the world than to bolt out the door and vanish, but every time he seemed on the verge of moving, he shot Leonardo a venomous glare and it seemed to root his heels to the ground.

"It looks very lovely," Leonardo said. "It really suits you."

April smothered her laugh with a cough and gave him a bright smile. "Thanks, Leo."

"Excuse me, I was having a conversation with April," Donatello broke in irritably from behind them and April turned to look at him in surprise where he pouted with arms crossed by the stove, glaring at his big brother.

Abruptly Leonardo's gaze sharpened and he flicked hard eyes onto his soft-spoken brother. "And now _I'm_ having a conversation with her, Don," he said steadily. "That's how people socialise."

Donatello bristled and rounded his shoulders, standing up a little straighter even as April gaped to witness this strange series of events. He had just opened his mouth to retaliate when Michelangelo bounded back in.

"That's better!" he exclaimed, his expression one of rapturous relief. "Okay, Don, get out of the way before you fuck it up completely."

"You better have washed your hands," Leonardo said stonily from the table as Donatello practically flounced over to the silverware, polished to a mirror shine, and collected it in his large hands, beginning to lay places at the table, shooting Leonardo dirty little looks with each step.

Michelangelo rolled his eyes as he put his apron back on and recommenced his expert management of the dinner. "I'm not even gonna dignify that with an answer!"

"Mikey!"

Raphael leapt away from the wall and stabbed the air with an emphatic finger, teeth bared. "Don't make me come over there and wash 'em for you. You ain't gonna enjoy it!"

"Guys! Settle down!" April interjected abruptly, fed up with it all. "I came over to have a nice evening with you all, not play referee! Just cut it out!"

The four turtles jumped and gaped at her in astonishment. But even as they stared she could see that hazy film begin to mist their gaze and their jaws began to dangle.

"What is _with_ you guys tonight?" she snapped and they started out of the trance, Donatello looking duly chastened, Michelangelo turning away with a guilty expression and Leonardo immediately remorseful and apologetic. On the other side of the room, Raphael flung himself back against the wall, glowering with arms crossed.

"April, you're right. Our behaviour is unacceptable. We have been training hard this week and are overtired. Please accept my apology."

Despite the formality of Leonardo's words and the fact he stared at the table while he uttered them, April could hear the sincerity within them and was mollified as she leaned back against the cupboard, crossing one ankle over the other and nodding to Leonardo. Leonardo shot his brothers a leading glance, brow ridges raised.

"Guys?"

"I'm sorry, April," Donatello said so repentantly he might've been apologising for launching a nuclear missile, gazing at the wall where a battered collection of novelty cooking signs disguised the exposed brick.

Michelangelo turned mournful puppy-dog eyes on her for an instant before quickly looking back at the stove. "Sorry, April," he dolefully murmured.

Raphael glanced at her and though he still frowned she saw the glint of shame deep in his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.

April sighed, raked fingers back through her hair and shook it out, not failing to notice they all nervously shifted a little as she did so even though they didn't look at her. "Guys, it's fine. Forget it. Now, I'm gonna get a beer – "

"On it."

"Let me!"

"I'll get that for you!"

"Please, allow me."

April stood in the midst of four mutant turtles, all poised on their way to the fridge, glaring at each other. It had happened so fast, the four of them speaking simultaneously, surprising each other into wary, tense stillness and leaving her in the middle with her eyes wide and her hands held up, eyeballing each of them in disbelief.

"Guys, I can get my own beer," she said with sarcastic exasperation, moving to the fridge. "I was going to ask if anyone else wanted one?"

The tension retreated as they broke their stares and shifted back to what they were doing, the apparent competition to get her a beer having been nullified. Raphael strode over to the fridge as she opened it and she was keenly aware of his looming presence as she bent to retrieve a cold bottle.

"I'll take one," he said and she handed the bottle to him before getting another for herself.

Raphael twisted the cap off the bottle and then handed it back to her and she took it with a little smile, feeling her cheeks flush, and then passed him the unopened bottle.

"Thanks," she said.

He shrugged, one massive shoulder lifting then falling. "No sweat."

For a moment she was reassured by Raphael's entirely normal behaviour, but as she took a quick swig of her beer she caught him give the other three a domineering little glare, a look that both Michelangelo and Donatello quickly, if irritably, glanced away from but that Leonardo met directly, with steely resolution, and once again a silent war between them commenced across the room.

"Should I just go home and let you guys work this out?" April snapped, stepping between them and shooting them each a furious look, making no attempt to disguise just how irritated she now was. So much for an enjoyable evening with family. "God knows, I wouldn't want to be in the way!"

Their faces fell but before they could further react, Donatello and Michelangelo were swooping on her, one on either side, hustling her to the area by the stove they had claimed.

"No, April!"

"No no no no, April! I made you the _best _one, you gotta stay! Don't mind the big lugs, you know how wound up they get!"

The intervention had at least distracted Raphael and Leonardo from each other – except now their deadly attention was fixed on Donatello and Michelangelo and Raphael's fists were bunched, arms tensed and Leonardo's eyes were icy slits.

"Is dinner ready yet, Michelangelo?" Leonardo pointedly asked and Michelangelo sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, your majesty, it is just this very moment complete, please don't have me whipped and beaten for the delay!"

April rolled her eyes and moved towards the table, wanting out of the line of fire. Leonardo was halfway to rising when Raphael was suddenly there, pulling a chair out for her. It was unexpectedly sweet and she looked up to give him a smile of thanks only to find him smirking at Leonardo who was as close to scowling as she had ever seen him.

She chose to ignore it, placing her beer bottle on the table with a sharp click and then tapping her fingertips irritably against the wood. Beside her, Raphael was pulling a chair out and whilst ordinarily she would have been pleased she was by then too annoyed to feel anything much else as he lowered his massive frame. Leonardo smoothly continued to rise and went to the fridge, returning with a can of Dr Pepper that he placed at the setting beside her. There was the scrape of chair legs against cement and then he was seated on her other side, leaving her sandwiched uncomfortably between the two of them as they silently took sips and swigs from their drinks, both of them staring straight ahead.

"This is cosy," April heard herself dryly remark and Raphael stiffened as Leonardo inhaled and lifted his chin a little higher.

Then Michelangelo was there, placing a dish laden with food before her with a flourish.

"Voila, angelcakes! Chicken parmigiana with garlic cream potatoes, new peas and baby carrots in a honey glaze. Dig in babe, you're the guest of honour!"

Jesus Christ. There had to be at least a thousand calories on the plate. The schnitzel took up over half of it and was smothered beneath sauce, generous lashings of melted cheese and – crispy bacon? Her arteries felt blocked just looking at the cream sauce that the potatoes were submerged in. And her teeth ached upon sight of the shiny glaze that lacquered the vegetables.

But goddamn, it smelled good.

April looked up at Michelangelo's beaming face and couldn't resist smiling back. "Thanks, Mikey, it looks amazing."

Michelangelo preened and her pleasure at his satisfaction was somewhat marred when she saw his eyes dart smugly at Raphael and Leonardo in turn and she sighed and picked up her knife and fork, deciding to take Michelangelo at his word and not really caring if she was being rude.

"I sure am glad Leonardo gave this spot up," Michelangelo returned to the table, arms laden with more dishes that he placed before his brothers, Donatello following with his own plate and taking a seat opposite Raphael. Michelangelo sat where Leonardo had previously been, opposite her. "Now I get to look at your beautiful face as much as I want."

April might've enjoyed what seemed, on the surface, to be Michelangelo's customary ebullient charm except that there was something distinctively performative about it, as though he had said it more for the benefit of the others than for her. Leonardo shot Michelangelo a contemptuous glance and Raphael snorted loudly.

"Too bad for her she's gotta stare at your ugly mug in exchange," he rumbled and Michelangelo pulled a face at him as they all commenced eating amidst a fraught tension she had never before experienced amongst them.

April's temper was rising. This was not how she wanted to celebrate being home again. The boys were being downright childish and she had a sinking suspicion about the cause for their uncharacteristic behaviour. She supposed it was somewhat to be expected – she was the first woman they had ever been around, after all, and they were all young men. After two weeks away, they might feel a little competitive for her attention – but that didn't make it okay. She expected more maturity. And respect.

At least the food was delicious.

"This really is fantastic, Mikey, thanks," she said around mouthfuls of succulent crumbed chicken breast and cheese, attempting to restore some normalcy to the atmosphere, and Michelangelo wiggled gleefully in his chair, looking at the others gloatingly. April sighed and savagely speared a chunk of creamy potato.

The other three brothers all shifted in their chairs, tension rippling around the table. Beside her, Raphael cleared his throat, shot Michelangelo a dangerous glare and then addressed her, even going so far as to turn slightly in her direction.

"We gonna start Sons this week?"

After finishing _Orange is the New Black_ they'd agreed to rewatch _Sons of Anarchy_ together in preparation for the upcoming final season. These evenings with Raphael had become something April looked forward to more than almost anything else – an intriguing and mildly unsettling state she was not yet examining too closely – but at that moment April was feeling less than enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Definitely," she replied nonetheless, reasoning that all this ridiculous posturing would cease once his brothers weren't around and they'd all got used to her being back. "Thursday night?"

She glanced at him and saw his lips flicker in a smile that was, at least, not directed around the table but downwards to his plate as he shovelled a hefty mouthful of chicken and potatoes into his mouth, nodding his assent.

Then, beside her, Leonardo interrupted.

"I'd love to hear all about your trip, April, perhaps after dinner we could sit down for a while?"

It was so transparent – especially for Leonardo – that April was suddenly gripped by an urge for mischief, unable to resist taking her revenge on the turtle she most expected to be above this petty one-upping. She swivelled in her chair to look directly up at him, relishing the way his jaw tightened and his eyes darted even as he carefully didn't look at her.

"Only if you let me practice those disarming techniques on you, Leo," she said with such deliberate innocence that innuendo was clearly intended.

She was rewarded when his eyes bulged and he hurriedly crammed a forkful of food in his mouth and it was worth it even as she felt Raphael tense from head to toe on her other side.

It was Donatello's turn to interject, rendering her satisfaction short-lived.

"So April, I noticed your laptop is pretty outdated – how about I build you a new one? All the latest features of course – and a few other turtle-exclusive touches – I could have it ready by tomorrow night."

"That would be great, Donnie," April admitted. Her current laptop was six years old, constantly freezing and ran slower than a tortoise – her present company excepted. Donatello had already done a bunch of upgrades on it, but it was nonetheless on its last legs. "If it's no trouble – "

"Hey, I already said I'd welcome the opportunity!" Donatello actually leant back in his chair, affecting as close to a swagger as she'd ever seen him do. "You know, to help you out."

"Is that the best chicken parmigiana you've ever had or what, April?" Michelangelo burst in, once again the only one of them to cheerfully look at her dead on, his eyes flickering all over her in open admiration. "Doesn't the bacon just _make_ it? Isn't that the best bacon you've ever had? Perfectly crispy, not too greasy. I minced that garlic fresh, by the way."

"It's great, Mikey," April replied neutrally, attempting to diffuse the situation as Michelangelo seemed oblivious to the trio of death stares fixed on him, leaning forward with his forearms on the table, own dinner forgotten, as he gazed at her eagerly, pupils once more dilated and glistening.

Sighing, she swept her hopelessly-frizzy hair (that was the last time she didn't dry it before going underground) back off her face and bound it up in a ponytail with the elastic she always kept around one wrist. Again, the energy in the room shifted and she glanced edgily from side to side to find herself once more the centre of attention to four slack-jawed terrapin faces with wide, dark eyes and transfixed expressions.

"Guys!" She smacked a hand on the table and they all jumped and looked guiltily away, Raphael actually swivelling his body in the other direction, Donatello looking around desperately as though for an escape, Leonardo pressing his lips tight together and rolling his eyes heavenwards. Michelangelo again leapt up from the table, an expression of urgency on his face.

"Gotta go to the bathroom!" he said as he hurried to the door.

"Again?" April enquired incredulously.

"I had a whole case of Orange Crush before you got here!" he exclaimed, already out the door, whilst Leonardo dropped his face into one palm.

April glared at the remaining three in turn as they shifted and shucked, still not looking at her.

"Seriously," she said. "What the hell is going on?"

It was Raphael who finally spoke, after a sigh like stone scraping stone. "'S a turtle thing," he muttered, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his plastron. "You wouldn't understand."

April snorted, crossing her arms irritably over her chest and casting a stony glare around the table. "Try me."

Raphael chuckled seemingly despite himself, ducking his head down then glancing at her with wry eyes. He scanned her quickly then tore his gaze from her even as his pupils began to dilate. "Trust me. You wouldn't."

Betrayed and stung, April turned to Leonardo. "Leo?" she demanded, almost every shred of her remaining patience gone.

Leonardo inhaled, seemed about to speak and then stopped, grimacing. She could see his inability to explain things to her was causing him as much consternation as his unusual behaviour, but she was all out of sympathy.

"Okay, fine." She threw her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. "I'll get out of the way of your dick wagging contest in that case. Thanks for dinner, guys."

She yanked her jacket off the back of the chair, retrieved her handbag from the floor and strode towards the kitchen door.

"April – " Raphael sounded dismayed, his deep voice hoarse, but she kept going.

"April – " Leonardo's voice was frustrated, entreating, but she ignored him, striding out across the den only to find herself face to face with Splinter, just returning from wherever he had been.

"April!" the old rat greeted her warmly, smiling and she was glad to see him, stepping forward to press a kiss to his furry cheek.

"Hey Splinter, how are you?"

"Very well, my dear, and pleased to see you returned. How are you?"

A tumult of raised voices could be heard from the kitchen and Splinter's ears pricked up, his head cocking. At this distance April was unable to make out the exact words spoken, but she suspected from the look on Splinter's face he could hear them just fine.

"I'm fine, thanks," she pushed on with the conversation as though there was nothing weird going on. "A bit tired and a little bit irritated, but I'm glad to be home. I was just on my way out."

Splinter nodded once, shining black eyes flickering over her handbag and jacket. "So I see. My dear, would you mind sparing me a few moments of your time before you leave?"

"Of course!" April was pleased to, as happy to see Splinter as she _had_ been to see the boys – and she would prefer her visit to end on a better note. She followed Splinter to his room, a hushed and restful space illuminated only by candlelight and sparsely furnished, seating herself on the mat where he indicated.

Splinter sat opposite her and stroked his whiskers with a sigh, curling his tail around his feet. "My sons – were they – how was their behaviour this evening?"

April snorted and shook her head, holding her hands up. "Let's not even go there. I've never seen them carry on so childishly before."

From the lair beyond, a raised shout, loud enough to be heard clearly where they were seated, rang out: "You guys scared April off? What the hell?"

They both looked towards the door for a moment as a jumble of bickering voices rose and then Splinter's nose twitched and he glanced down at his folded paws. "They were not too – inappropriate – I hope."

April cocked an eyebrow at the old rat, surprised by his choice of words. "Well – they were weird – I mean – just weird." She wasn't sure how else to explain it – the conversation was more than a little awkward. How to say "your four mutant turtle sons couldn't stop ogling me" to a giant elderly rat?

Splinter nodded and sighed again, seeming to read between the lines. "Spring is – a difficult time of year for them."

"Spring?" April was confused, though Michelangelo's remark about Splinter trying to get away from them as much as possible at this time suddenly leapt to mind.

The distant cacophony of accusative shouts and general chaos could be heard from the direction of the kitchen, but though the tip of Splinter's tail flickered and his ears twitched, he did not acknowledge it.

"Yes – " Splinter hesitated, considering his words carefully, running his clawed fingertips through his moustaches. "Although they have acquired many human traits due to the mutagen, they retain some terrapin ones as well – beyond the visible, I mean."

April looked enquiringly at Splinter, brows furrowed, still not comprehending and the rat cleared his throat softly, tongue darting out to lick his front incisors.

"Turtles have – an annual hormonal cycle."

And in a rush, April got it.

"Oooh my god," she said, her cheeks flushing as she glanced down and to the side, wanting to sink into the floor.

Splinter continued valiantly on, despite the embarrassment he was also too clearly experiencing, his tail twitching agitatedly. "They become rather more – rambunctious than usual. And rather – "

"One track minded?" April said from behind the hand she was massaging her forehead with.

" – distracted," Splinter finished tactfully. "They have been strictly raised," he hastened to add. "And I have the utmost faith in them. But they can be – quite trying, nonetheless. I hope they did not upset you too much," he finished apologetically and April huffed, cheeks still hot.

"They might need an outlet for those competitive urges," she said wryly and Splinter actually snorted.

"I generally find a few hours in the _hashi_ more than amply focuses their attention," he replied with dry mischief and she laughed a little herself. Splinter reached across the table and placed a warm paw over her hand.

"They will be most upset to have offended you," he said seriously. "They would not want that."

"I know," she said. "I could tell they were trying not to be creepy. I just don't wanna feel like the rope in a game of tug of war."

"Of course not," Splinter gave her hand an understanding squeeze and drew back. "It is not pleasant. And we will understand if you keep your distance for a while."

"Oh no," April was feeling a lot better now that things were slotting into place and waved a hand dismissively. "No, it's okay, really. I'm sure it'll all be fine. I'll just make sure I only wear sweatsuits and avoid them when they're all together."

Splinter smiled then peered down his nose at her. "Of course, your temporary absence would rather press the point home."

April laughed outright and then a resounding crash followed by an echoing clatter from the lair made her jump though Splinter merely sighed and bowed his face to one paw with a long suffering air.

"I had best go attend to that," he grumbled, rising to his feet, April following suit and resolving to do some intensive research on turtle behaviour when she got home.

"Better you than me," she quipped and Splinter gave her a grim smile as they exited his room together.

The den was chaos. The drum kit was scattered in pieces and surfboards were toppled everywhere. Cushions and pillows were strewn from one end to the other, a bookshelf lay on its side and shredded paper drifted through the air like confetti. In the midst of all this, Donatello and Michelangelo were vigorously sparring, weapons drawn and wielded whilst Raphael and Leonardo merely grappled, grimacing with exertion as they each strove to drive the other back, eyes locked in deadly conflict.

"_Yamero_!" Splinter roared and the four turtles abruptly broke apart, heads whipping to stare at their sensei, their startled expressions twisting one by one in dismay, mortification, shame and embarrassment to see April standing beside him.

"April – " Raphael breathed, shoving Leonardo away from him, his expression painfully unguarded for a moment before he fixed it with a scowl.

"April – " Leonardo sounded chagrined, panting but otherwise still. "You're still here?"

"April!" Donatello squeaked, inching his glasses up nervously. "We were just exercising!"

"Angelcakes?" Michelangelo's voice was mingled pleasure and plaintiveness as he turned his head towards her from where he sprawled on the floor. "Let me apologise for my asswipe bros here – "

"_Urusai_!" Splinter barked and Donatello and Michelangelo flinched whilst Leonardo dropped his eyes. Raphael shifted his weight and grit his jaw defiantly but was silent.

April couldn't help but feel sorry for them in all their embarrassment and confusion and her heartstrings were tugged to witness their remorseful expressions. She knew they hadn't meant any harm – this couldn't be an easy experience for them after all. And if it weren't for the fact that, no matter how sorry they were, their eyes were already beginning to glaze over as they stared at her, she would've been tempted to brush it all off and stay for a movie.

Plus Splinter had a point to make.

"April is just leaving," Splinter said sternly, fixing each of his sons with a hard glare in turn. "I hope that a valuable lesson has been learned here tonight. April, goodnight my dear," he turned to her and pressed her arm, meeting her eye with a meaningful look. "I look forward to seeing you once more – when you decide to return," he finished pointedly and April hid a smile as she nodded to the rat and made her way to the exit, hearing Michelangelo's strangled whimper and more than aware all four of them watched yearningly after her as she went.

"Now," she heard Splinter say as she left. "_To the hashi!"_

She left the lair to a symphony of groans.

**ooo**

_UGH THIS FIC ALMOST KILLED ME! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep track of five characters in one room? From a single perspective? YIKES._

_I know there's some atypical or OOC behaviour here: that's all down to those hormonal surges combined with April's maddening pheromones. The boys have been hit with a love bomb and have no idea how to handle it!_

_I know some will wish I had pushed this further, made it more ludicrous and over the top and I am truly sorry if I have disappointed you! As tempting as it is to write that (and actually, I AM hoping to push it a little bit harder in a future fic that will switch perspectives between the boys), it's not the sort of thing I would write for 2k14verse where I depict the turtles as adults and overall keep a somewhat more "realistic" timbre (insofar as that word has any meaning when applied to the TMNT universe ^_^). I prefer an overall mature tone and really whacky hijinks don't fit in with that. I hope that the end result here was still a bit amusing and kink-hitting and fun._

_Remember my characterisation is in keeping with 2k14, so that should explain the way April talks. I can personally see 2k14 April using terms like 'dick wagging', haha. And is also why Raphael is less smart-assy, he didn't do much of it in the film though the potential was there – I think being this overwhelmed by lust would rob him altogether of his smart tongue._

_FINALLY, I have to acknowledge the wonderful kameterra here. She wrote a rather hilarious and delightful "mating season" fic as part of her Boundverse tales and it included April reminiscing over Leonardo covering his ogling of her by constantly asking if she'd gotten a haircut or a new item of clothing. It always really amused me and I had to slip it in here. I hope it might also inspire all you Raphril shippers to check her work out if you haven't already! It's 2k7/2k3verse and is truly incredible! Go and read it!_


End file.
